


Like This

by miss_begonia



Category: The OC
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_begonia/pseuds/miss_begonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re kind of quiet,” Ryan says, flicking on the signal and turning onto a street Seth doesn’t recognize. “That’s very not Seth Cohen of you.”</p><p>“I’m being you today,” Seth shoots back, and Ryan laughs.</p><p>“Does that mean I get to be you?” Ryan asks.</p><p>“If you want to be,” Seth says. “But I can’t imagine why you would want to be me when – “</p><p>…when you could be you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like This

Seth kicks one of his shoes across the room, attempting to clear a path from one end of his tiny dorm shack – as he affectionately calls it – to the other. Because the way Seth sees it, if there is a way to perambulate from one side to the other, it isn’t irredeemably messy. Approaching it, but not quite.

Too bad he’s fairly certain Ryan won’t feel the same way.

But who cares what Ryan thinks, right? Ryan is never around. Ryan and his wifebeaters and hero complex and stern stoicism have been conspicuously absent from Seth’s life most of the time lately, because Ryan is always studying. Why would Ryan do such a thing? Hasn’t anyone informed him what college is really for?

Of course they have, because _he_ , Seth Cohen, has informed him that drinking, PS2 and general sloth should all rank above studying in his hierarchy of needs. But Ryan doesn’t listen to what Seth says, and Seth is almost positive that has nothing to do with the fact that about 85% of what Seth says is nonsense.

“You know how they say pregnant women eat for two?” Ryan asked him one day as he picked up piles of clothing and attempted to imprison them in the overflowing hamper. “You _talk_ for two.”

Ryan has seemingly mastered the art of being sardonic. Seth is not sure he likes this development. It is seriously salting his game.

Seth picks up a shirt and sniffs it. Hmm. Not so clean. Maybe one more day? An afternoon? An hour in which he doesn’t have to encounter any other human beings?

The phone rings then, causing him to exchange the not-so-clean shirt for the cordless. He clicks it on and mumbles, “Yeah?”

“Cohen, you dumbass, can’t you answer the phone like a normal person?”

Ah, Summer. Always a beacon of light in his otherwise oblique world. Seth rolls his eyes. “I will leave that question rhetorical, Summer.”

There’s an audible sigh. “Can I speak to Ryan?”

Seth starts. “Ryan? Why do you want to talk to Ryan?”

“What do you care why I want to talk to Ryan? Maybe we’re dating now.”

“You’re not dating Ryan,” Seth says, immediately wracking his brain for any possible statements Ryan may have made that could possibly be interpreted as “I’m dating your ex.” But Ryan doesn’t talk much, so Seth is done pretty quickly. Plus, Ryan tends to say what he means, unlike a certain neurotic basketcase who shall remain nameless.

“No, I’m not, I just want to talk to him. Is he there?”

“No, he’s not, in fact, because Ryan is never here. Or haven’t you heard? He’s currently running for the Biggest Dork on Earth award, and thus he is never around. I think they’re going to dedicate a whole wing to him in the library.”

Summer sounds a little more sensitive and a lot less bitchy when she says, “That’s not right. He should be drinking and playing Playstation and being a general lazy ass.”

“That’s what I’m always telling him. But does he listen? Of course not.” Seth could go on, but he realizes that he’s sounding more and more like a Jewish mother, and that needs to stop.

“How are you holding up, Cohen?” Summer asks, and Seth notes that she actually sounds interested.

“Okay. Not dying. Life is good.”

“Sounds it,” Summer snickers.

“You know what, Summer? You just go and…plan a party or something,” he finishes lamely.

There’s a pause, and then Summer says abruptly, “Tell Ryan to call me, okay?”

“Um…sure,” Seth says, a little taken aback. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Don’t think so. Gotta go.” Seth opens his mouth and is greeted with the dial tone. He sighs and throws the phone across the room, which is only about five feet, and it hits the wall and drops into Ryan’s shower basket. Someone knocks on the wall and shouts something very rude, and Seth sticks his tongue out at the wall, not caring that they can’t see him. He hopes karma transcends mere physical limitations.

Seth’s mind immediately drifts to Ryan, and Summer, and the eight million questions he now has because Summer is being Madame Mysterious all of a sudden. Seth has a very active imagination, and he imagines approximately twenty different scenarios within about as many seconds. Then his brain short-circuits and he feels dizzy and has to lie down.

This is shaping up to be a _wonderful_ day.

***

“Seth.”

Seth can hear his name being called, but it’s so nice here in the Shire. Everything is green and there’s music and dancing and little people. And Bilbo is telling him all the secrets of the universe, like…

“Seth, wake _up._ ”

…and now he’s forgotten them. Because the world is a cold, cruel place.

Seth’s eyes flutter open and Ryan is sitting on his desk chair next to his bed, shaking his shoulder. Ryan’s wearing dark jeans and a white shirt with his collar open a button and his hair is a little messy, kind of how he looks when he gets up and runs a comb through it once because he’s late for class. Seth doesn’t know why he notices these things, but he’s stopped trying to figure that out, because it’s better that way.

“I need to ask you something,” Ryan says, and Seth can hear his voice catch in his throat, just a little, which he does when he’s nervous. Or lying, which he’s horrible at.

Seth decides he notices these things because he and Ryan have been living together for four years and even though Ryan has been studying like an idiot for the last two, he’s been around enough for Seth to get to know him pretty well.

“What?” Seth murmurs, propping himself up on his elbow and trying to shake off the sleep that still hangs on him like a staticky blanket.

“Did Summer call?” he asks.

Oh, Ryan. Don’t do that.

Seth has a headache.

“Yeah, a few hours ago…Ryan, why are you talking to Summer? Is there something going on between you two, because I’d really rather you tell me now instead of years from now when you’re engaged and planning a family of Ryummer babies, you know? Because, dude, I’m not a jealous man, not really. Especially since it’s been, like, years since I – “

“Calm down, Seth. It’s nothing. Go back to sleep,” Ryan says, and gets up off the chair. But of course Seth can’t go back to sleep now, and he feels a pang of sadness for that loss.

Bilbo will never reveal his secrets. Damn him.

“Are you going out tonight?” Seth asks.

“It’s a Tuesday,” Ryan says, looking at Seth like he’s crazy. It’s a look Seth is familiar with. In fact, Seth would go as far as to say that he and that look are good friends. Simpatico, they are.

“Right.” Seth can’t be bothered with details like dates and days of the week. That’s what his cell phone is for. And those clocks you sometimes see on the highway that tell you the temperature, too, not that it really matters here, since it’s always the same. That’s the beauty of southern California.

“Don’t you have homework?” Ryan asks, curious. Ryan is amazed with Seth’s ability to do nothing but still get good grades. Seth doesn’t tell Ryan that he does study, he just does it in a last-minute panic in the wee hours of the morning like most self-destructive college students. He doesn’t tell him this because he likes the fact that Ryan thinks it’s amazing. It’s his superpower, and even the bad boy from Chino can’t top that.

Ryan just does it the methodical, hard way, like the decent human being he is.

“I have homework, Ry, but here’s the thing,” Seth begins, and Ryan is already rolling his eyes, preparing himself for the laundry list of excuses Seth is concocting. “If I were to do my homework now, I would be breaking my streak, you see, because I’ve made a pact with myself this semester.”

“A pact,” Ryan deadpans.

“Yes, a _pact,_ dude. It’s a relaxation pact, because I decided that last semester I stressed myself out way too much and that this semester I need to make a conscious effort to be better to myself.”

“Seth, all you did last semester was sleep,” Ryan intones, giving him a mild version of The Glare That Says It All.

“Ah, but you are mistaken, my friend,” Seth says. “True, I did spend an inordinate amount of time in my bed, but a lot of that time I was not, in fact, sleeping. I was meditating.”

Seth does not think it would be a good idea to mention what he was meditating on, because a good deal of it had to do with Ryan, as is often the case. There were questions about his sexuality and a few too many speculations about how certain things Ryan said to him could be interpreted in a decidedly more suggestive fashion, and after much deliberation Seth concluded that he was actually insane, not just weird, and that he needed to get a grip.

“If you were meditating why weren’t you more relaxed?” Ryan asks in that sensible way he does.

“Because there were too many thoughts,” Seth answers, always ready with a comeback, logic be damned. “I was overwhelmed.”

Ryan sighs, blowing his bangs off his forehead, and Seth thinks that Ryan needs a haircut, possibly more than he does. If only because Ryan has that straight Anglo thing going on, and Seth’s curls enable him to put off haircuts for weeks, if necessary, because no one can really tell when he cuts his hair anyway. “Well, I have homework to do,” Ryan announces. “So you need to be quiet.”

Seth puts up his hands in a gesture of submission. “Quiet as a mouse, dude. Quieter. Silent. Mute. Taciturn.”

Ryan gives him a long, hard look, and Seth retreats into his pillows, pulling his knees into his chest.

Seth thinks now would be a good time to do more of that meditating.

***

Seth works at the admissions office. He doesn’t really like working there, and he certainly doesn’t need the money, but when Ryan insisted on taking that job at Phillipes his first week freshman year, Seth figured he better find some way to fill the time when Ryan was gone. Seth did eventually make other friends – a short, sassy Summer look-alike named Molly, a self-conscious English major named Tom, and a comic book geek named Andy. Seth likes all of his friends and enjoys spending time with them, but it always comes back to Ryan. Ryan is his personal superhero, his partner in crime, his home base.

And yes, Seth is very aware of just how gay that sounds.

But Ryan is the straightest guy on the planet. Perhaps in the entire universe. And just because he sometimes dresses like a hustler does not mean he is going to be playing for the pink team anytime soon.

So Ryan works at the restaurant and Seth toils away at the admissions office for minimum wage. He answers phones and files and makes copies and yawns a lot. Occasionally Ryan text messages him to tell him he’ll be late or he’s going to the library or does he want to catch a movie later? And Seth gleefully types,

 **Ry, you’re so boring**

or

 **I just feel asleep thinking about your exciting night**

or

 **Can I pick the movie?**

which inevitably results in the answer: **NO.**

Ryan tells him he thinks it is phenomenal that Seth can’t even send concise text messages.

Seth responds that Ryan is an intellectual infant and can’t possibly understand his genius, and when he’s awarded the Nobel Prize he won’t thank Ryan because he was nothing but an impediment to his greatness.

Ryan ignores him, as per usual.

Seth thinks it’s strange that he’s never liked someone ignoring him quite as much as he likes Ryan doing it. And he figures that’s because Ryan really isn’t ignoring him at all, just choosing not to encourage him, which is probably for the best.

Today while Seth is messing with a prospective freshman on the phone, telling him he thinks they may not be accepting anyone this year because they have no dorm rooms, his cell phone beeps, notifying him that he’s got a message. He glances down and sees

 **2morrow we’re going out**

Seth wrinkles up his forehead. True, it is his birthday tomorrow, and he’s glad Ryan remembered, but there’s something weird about this. There’s something weird about his relationship with Ryan in general, lately. Things feel…awkward. Like Ryan wants to tell him something but he’s not.

As the anxious freshman trills away in his ear, Seth thinks about all the things he hasn’t told Ryan in the past year. There’s quite a pile, in fact.

 _I think I like you as more than a friend, and maybe that’s weird for you, because you don’t think of me like that, and I like girls and I don’t really think I like guys except for you, not that you’re like a girl, not at all, because you’re the opposite of a girl, but still…_

And this is why Seth has never made this confession, because he’s incapable of making sense at times like that, when it actually matters. Plus he’s scared that once he says those words there will be no going back, and he may lose Ryan. It sucks to have an unrequited crush on your best friend, but it would suck even more to not have your best friend at all. Seth can’t even remember what things were like before Ryan sidled on into his life, except that they weren’t good. Ever.

His phone beeps again and there’s another message.

 **Happy almost b-day, dude**

Seth grins. He has taught Ryan well.

And then he feels a stabbing pain in his chest, thinking this is how he likes it, how he wants it to stay, with Ryan. Like this. Forever.

***

On his birthday, Seth wakes up to Maroon 5. He decides this is a bad sign, and hastily turns on The Shins to banish the dirty boy pop vibes from the room, eliciting a rather profane response from Ryan, who is still trying to sleep. Seth has to go to class, which he thinks is a supreme injustice, but there’s a test in his art history lecture, so it can’t be avoided. He studies for 3.7 minutes, gives up and watches Ryan sleep instead. He knows it’s a little creepy, but he’s there, and he’s asleep, and it’s cute. And sweet. Seth realizes that Ryan has a very sweet face when he’s not giving people the Glare of Doom. He looks kind of like a little kid when he sleeps.

Seth cocks his head to one side and thinks about what his dad said to him the day they left them at UCLA freshman year. Kirsten had taken Ryan to Ackerman to get a cup of coffee, and Sandy was sitting on Seth’s bed, not yet made, fiddling with his watch and obviously trying to think of what to say.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be okay,” Seth said suddenly, and Sandy’s head snapped up, startled at his son’s statement.

“You’ll be okay,” Sandy said. “Ryan will be okay, too.”

“I know Ryan will be okay,” Seth said. “Ryan’s always okay.”

The second Seth said it he knew it wasn’t true, but he didn’t know how to take it back, how to backtrack. His mind flashed to when Ryan found out Theresa was pregnant, and when Marissa O.D.’d in Tijuana, and when his mom came to see him at the Cohen house and promptly abandoned him all over again.

Ryan isn’t always okay. He’s just really good at pretending to be.

“The important thing to remember about Ryan,” Sandy said, breaking through the fog of Seth’s thoughts, “is that he needs you as much as you need him.”

Seth isn’t sure he believes that, even now. But he liked hearing it. He wants Ryan to need him.

He wants Ryan to want him, too, but he’ll settle for needing, if that’s what he can get.

He sighs and slings his backpack over his shoulder, thinking how it isn’t fair that on his birthday the one present he wants is the one thing he can’t have.

***

Seth is dozing off on his bed to Bright Eyes when his cell phone rings, a jangly version of “Open Arms” by Journey. “Hey Ry,” he says sleepily. His art history test was killer, and he was definitely unprepared, plus he never gets up for the lecture at 8:30 am, so he’s suffering from extreme sleep deprivation.

“Happy birthday, Seth,” Ryan says, and there’s a brightness to his voice that Seth has missed these last few weeks. He wonders if whatever it is that Ryan isn’t telling him is over now, and maybe he can go back to being brooding Ryan instead of mysterious elusive Ryan.

“Thanks, dude,” he replies.

“So I’ve got reservations at a restaurant I think you’ll like,” Ryan says, and Seth feels a smile forming on his lips despite the lack of coherence in his brain. “Does that sound cool?”

“Sure,” Seth says. “I am in your hands, buddy. Totally up to you.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Ryan says, and he sounds sad, as if he thinks he’s done something wrong.

“Hey, I don’t mind,” Seth says quickly. “I’m horrible with decisions anyway. The best present ever is having somebody make up my mind for me.”

 _Well, maybe not the best present ever so much as…_

“You’re a strange guy, Seth,” Ryan says, and there’s a hint of laughter in his voice now. Seth considers his mission accomplished. “Have I ever told you that before?”

“I’m sure you have, amigo,” Seth answers. “It is duly noted.” _And by strange, do you mean “queer”?_ he meditates, then pushes that thought aside.

“See you later,” Ryan said. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Sounds good,” Seth says. “Later, dude.” He hangs up.

Seth remembers the first time that he became aware of his complicated feelings for Ryan. It was the night after their high school graduation, when he and Ryan got drunk together in the poolhouse. Ryan had made him promise to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, because Ryan doesn’t like drinking to get drunk and has a mortal fear of becoming an instant alcoholic because of his family history. Seth informed Ryan that there was no way in hell he was going to do anything stupider than Seth, and Ryan bit back that that was a given. In actuality, the night had been pretty tame. Mostly they chilled by the pool with the stereo blasting Al Green at full volume, and the highlight came when Ryan correctly lip-synched all of the words to “Love and Happiness.”

But the moment Seth remembers best is when he looked at Ryan and suddenly found himself wondering if Ryan knew, like _really knew_ , just how good-looking he was. Seth’s breath caught in his throat and he had to cough to breathe again, causing Ryan to hop up from where he was sitting on a pool chair and slap Seth on the back.

That’s Ryan, after all. Always the hero.

The next day Seth attributed his errant thoughts to his drunkenness and tried to push them aside, but they resurfaced often, nudging their way into his otherwise very hetero fantasies. Sometimes Ryan would be sitting at the island in the Cohen kitchen and the light would filter through the window in just the right way to make his hair glint golden, and Seth would be struck by how beautiful he was. Or they would be playing Playstation and Seth would start mentally listing all of the things he liked about Ryan, realizing once he got past fifty-two that it wasn’t exactly normal for a guy to have thoughts like this about his straight male friends.

But things between him and Ryan had never been quite normal, had they? After all, this was the kid who showed up out of nowhere one day – correction, freshly sprung from _jail_ – and became his new housemate, his adopted brother, his best friend.

Seth sighs, considering that he’s probably thinking a bit too much about this, especially on his birthday, this holiest of days. He needs to suck it up and live in the moment and carpe diem and all that crapola. He and Ryan are going out. It’s his 20th birthday. He has things to do and places to go.

So now all he has to do is wait.

***

Ryan phones him when he’s outside Hedrick Hall, and Seth, now dressed in his Tenacious D shirt and jeans, immediately grabs his wallet and hightails downstairs. Ryan is tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to a hip hop beat, and Seth realizes when he closes the car door that it’s Common, that Ryan is listening to a CD he purchased for him, despite his protests that he is “not much of a music person.” Seth argued that everyone is a music person, and that the only people who say stupid things like “I’m not much of a music person” are people who haven’t found the right kind of music for them. Seth Cohen is thoroughly committed to helping Ryan find his music soulmate.

Plus, Seth noted, Ryan used to do musicals, right? So he couldn’t hate music all that much.

That was when Ryan threw a shoe at Seth, very narrowly missing his head.

Seth decided he had finally reached the statute of limitations on that particular joke, and he began leaving CDs on Ryan’s desk chair instead, sometimes with post-its attached to them recommending a particular track. And thus began Ryan’s musical education.

“You’re listening to the CD,” Seth comments.

“Yeah, because ‘I wanna rhyme like Common Sense,’” Ryan says, completely serious.

“And the Jay-Z?” Seth grins. “See, I knew you’d come around. You’re a regular ghetto gansta.”

Ryan glances over at him and smiles, a little. Seth ignores how his stomach does this little uncomfortable flip. He swallows.

“So Happy Birthday,” Ryan says casually. “How does it feel to be twenty?”

“About the same way it felt to be nineteen,” Seth says, “except that I can no longer use the excuse of being a teenager, since I have officially passed into my second decade.”

“I didn’t know you used that excuse,” Ryan says. “I thought your excuse was just that you’re a Cohen.”

“I notice you never use that excuse,” Seth says.

“Because I don’t need to,” Ryan says smugly. “I always do the right thing.”

Seth wants to kiss him right then, really badly, because a part of him believes what Ryan says about always doing what’s right. And part of him knows that he doesn’t need to believe that to want to kiss Ryan. He doesn’t need a reason at all.

“You’re kind of quiet,” Ryan says, flicking on the signal and turning onto a street Seth doesn’t recognize. “That’s very not Seth Cohen of you.”

“I’m being you today,” Seth shoots back, and Ryan laughs.

“Does that mean I get to be you?” Ryan asks.

“If you want to be,” Seth says. “But I can’t imagine why you would want to be me when – “

 _…when you could be you._

“—you do it so well?” Ryan finishes, shooting him a wry smile.

Wry and Ryan complement each other very well, and not just because they sound similar.

“Exactly,” Seth says, but it sounds weak, unconvincing. Ryan doesn’t seem to notice.

They pull into one of L.A.’s seven million strip malls, and Ryan parks the car. “It’s this place,” Ryan says, gesturing to a Chinese restaurant called Happy Golden Garden. “It looks bad but it’s actually really good.”

“Hey, I trust you, dude,” Seth says, and he feels like he’s talking in code tonight, though if he is, Ryan isn’t picking up on it. Which is weird, because Ryan usually picks up on everything.

Ryan pushes the door of the restaurant open and it’s then that Seth realizes they aren’t dining alone. There’s a table there and Sandy and Kirsten and Summer and Tom and Molly and Andy are sitting at it. Seth blinks twice and realizes this is probably what Summer and Ryan have been conversing about, what they’ve been so mysterious about. Sometimes Seth becomes conscious of how incredibly self-involved he can be, but then things like this happen and it weirds him out how he’s the last person to realize that in this situation, it is about him.

“Seth, sweetie!” Kirsten gets up from the table and comes over to Seth, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. “How are you, birthday boy?”

“Good, mom,” he mutters, and winces as Ryan shoots him an amused glance.

“Sit down, son,” Sandy says, patting a seat next to him. “Let’s order. I’m famished.”

“Right to the point, dad. I like that,” Seth says, sitting down in the chair.

“Oh, and happy birthday,” Sandy adds carelessly.

“Seth is being me tonight,” Ryan can’t help saying.

Summer snickers. “Where’s your wifebeater, Cohen?”

“Absent, just like the humor in your comment,” Seth throws back.

“That was a very un-Chino-like thing to say,” Summer says.

“It’s more of an impression than an imitation,” Seth says. “Work with me, babe.”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Tom puts in.

“Welcome to my world, Tom,” Sandy says, smiling across the table.

“Well, your impression sucks,” Summer sulks.

They order food and soon there are four conversations going on around the table, Tom and Molly arguing about something having to do with The Catcher in the Rye, Summer teasing Andy about his obsession with the Batman/Superman comics, and Sandy and Kirsten talking in their weird husband/wife code about – and Seth can’t be sure about this, but that’s what it sounds like – laundry detergent. This leaves Ryan and Seth, and Ryan is telling him something about his engineering class and how it’s kicking his ass, but Seth can’t concentrate so he just stares at Ryan’s ear until Ryan gets weirded out and punches him, hard, in the shoulder.

“What is up with you, man?” Ryan hisses. “You’re being weirder than usual tonight, and that’s saying something.”

Then a voice that sounds like Seth’s says, “Can we talk?”

Ryan nods, and they get up from the table and wander over to where the bathrooms are. Standing in the hallway, Ryan puts his hand on Seth’s shoulder and says, “Whatever it is, Seth, we can talk about it.”

Seth thinks about how Ryan is pretty much the most amazing guy ever, but he’s wrong in this situation, because they can’t talk about everything, not anymore. Not since he discovered his inner mintiness and fell in love with his best friend.

Seth inhales sharply, realizing that is what this is.

Love.

And that’s when he leans in and presses his lips to Ryan’s, and he can feel Ryan tense up, rigid against the wall, but then Ryan is kissing him back, sliding his tongue into Seth’s mouth, and Seth can’t believe any of this is happening and he nudges his shoulder into the wall just to see if he wakes up. But he doesn’t, and Ryan is still kissing him, biting his lip lightly, and Seth feels like the temperature is approximately four hundred degrees, and he thinks he might faint.

They break apart and Ryan is breathing hard and Seth coughs so he doesn’t pass out from lack of oxygen. Seth looks into Ryan’s blue, blue eyes and thinks he could do this forever, if given the chance.

“That was…” Ryan starts to say, but can’t finish, and he runs his hand through his blonde hair that is too long, Seth decides, and collapses against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Seth apologizes, and he’s not sure why, but he feels like there’s been some kind of shift in the universe and usually when that happens it’s because he screwed up.

Then Ryan does something totally unexpected. He puts his hand on Seth’s arm and pulls him forward and kisses him, hard, on the lips. He says, “Don’t be sorry.”

Seth just gapes at him, and he knows the fish look isn’t the most flattering, but he had no idea, scratch that, NO IDEA, that anything like this was even in the realm of possibility. Ryan is…well, Ryan. And he’s Seth Cohen! And Seth Cohen does not have really hot kisses with really hot guys. It just doesn’t happen. It’s unprecedented. Revolutionary.

Seth decides that no matter what happens from this day forth, this will always be THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER.

“We should go back,” Ryan says. “They’ll think we’re – “

“—making out?” Seth finishes.

Ryan half-smiles, and says, “I was going to say sick. They’ll think we’re sick.”

“But we’re not, right?” Seth asks, his eyes searching Ryan’s. “Right?”

Ryan laughs lightly, and takes Seth’s hand in his. “No, Seth. We’re not sick.” He holds it for a second longer than is just friendly and gives him a warm smile.

Seth feels hot and cold at the same time, and he takes a deep breath as he and Ryan walk back to the table. Ryan, as usual, is cool as a cucumber, but Seth feels like the very recent events of the evening are written all over his face. When he sits back down Summer scoots over and takes the seat next to him, the one Ryan was sitting in earlier. Ryan shrugs and sits down next to Andy.

“Cohen,” Summer whispers, “your lips are kind of puffy.”

“Yeah?” Seth says, feigning ignorance. “That’s weird.”

“So it’s started, huh?” Summer murmurs. “Finally?”

Seth’s brain does a mental version of riding the tilt-o-whirl and all of a sudden he puts all of the pieces together for the first time. It’s like a giant jigsaw puzzle of fractals or something, a puzzle that takes hours and makes your head hurt. And Seth is finally seeing it, complete, in all its complicated glory.

Summer and Ryan weren’t planning his birthday party at all.

“I’m glad,” Summer says. “I was beginning to think I’d never get Ryan to make it happen.”

Seth wants to say that technically, he made it happen, but it stuns him too much to realize that Ryan has been thinking about this too, and that he brought in outside parties for advice, and that he was nervous and scared and any number of other things that are very un-Ryan-like.

He sneaks a look at Ryan across the table, and Ryan is listening to Andy ramble on about something to do with the neutron bomb; he’s trying to look interested but he looks tired instead. He glances over at Seth and their eyes meet for a millisecond and that’s all it takes – there’s a flash of something in Ryan’s eyes that Seth has never seen before, a kind of intensity that makes Seth want to fake actually being sick so that Ryan can come with him to the bathroom and kiss him again. Suddenly there is nothing Seth wants more than for this dinner to be over, so that he and Ryan can go back to their dorm room and explore all the details of this newfound relationship they are in the process of conceiving.

The rest of the evening whirs by like annoying white noise and there’s cake and presents and new shirts and the new Death Cab from Molly and a book about punk music and boxers from Summer. Summer always gives him boxers – she’s like a pseudo-mom, except not, because that’s gross. More like a good friend who happens to think he should wear Ralph Lauren and not Jockey. Summer is very particular about these things.

The whole time he’s waiting, waiting, to get Ryan’s present, but then Ryan slaps his hand to his forehead and says, shit, I forgot the present back at the dorm room, I’ll give it to you later tonight.

Seth can’t tell if this is code or not but either way he’s excited by the prospect.

Then they’re saying their goodbyes and he’s thanking everybody for a great party, and they’re loading presents and leftover Chinese into the Range Rover, and then it’s just him and Ryan, in the car.

And silence.

Seth can think of a thousand things he wants to say, to ask, but his tongue feels like it’s made of cotton, and he’s forgotten how to breathe correctly, and Ryan’s proximity is making him think about how his skin might feel against his palms, and how his breath felt against his cheek when he pulled away from that kiss.

Figures that Ryan would be the one person to make Seth incapable of speech.

“If this is weird for you,” Ryan says, and his voice sounds pinched, nervous, “then we don’t have to. Do anything. I mean that. I don’t want you to feel pressure or obligation or anything or – “

“Ryan. Dude,” Seth interrupts. “You have no idea how wrong you are right now.” He plays with his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers together. “You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about…well, about how incredible you are and how you are pretty much my favorite person ever. And I – “ Seth’s throat feels like it’s closing up, and he realizes he’s tearing up, and that has got to stop. “I want you,” Seth breathes. “Like nobody’s business.”

Ryan pulls the car into the parking lot next to their dorm and even in the dark of the car Seth can see he’s smiling, just a little bit, that sexy almost smile he does when he’s happy about something but doesn’t want to ruin it by being too obvious. Because Ryan is weird like that.

They’re in their dorm room in less than a minute, and Ryan shuts the door a little too hard, and the sound echoes through the room like a gunshot. Then he flicks on the stereo and chooses a song and Seth thinks he’s proud of Ryan for being so musically pro-active. But when the song starts, he laughs.

 _So now I come to you  
With open arms  
Nothing to hide  
Believe what I say_

“It’s…” he begins.

“Don’t mess with Journey, Seth,” Ryan says, very seriously.

 _So here I am  
With open arms  
Hoping you’ll see  
What your love means to me_

And then Ryan pushes Seth down onto his bed and kisses him, and everything in Seth’s world turns upside down, and he couldn’t care less if Britney Spears was playing on the stereo, because Ryan is kissing him and it’s amazing. Ryan’s body presses against his and he thinks how it’s funny that even though they’re totally different shapes they fit together so well. And then Ryan kisses his neck and he forgets about everything, and he’s lost in that moment, slipping into bliss like a bubble bath he never wants to get out of.

They break apart, and Ryan reaches over to his nightstand and picks up a slender envelope. “I suppose you’ll be wanting that birthday present,” Ryan says, slipping it between Seth’s fingers.

Seth looks down at the envelope and up at Ryan and whispers, “It’s my birthday?”

Ryan chuckles. “Open it.”

Seth does, and he pulls out a map. It’s of California and the Pacific, and there’s little things written all over it in Ryan’s scrawling handwriting. He turns it around and sees that near LA it reads, “Luna Chicks – we’re not welcome” and “college hierarchy of needs: drinking, PS2, sloth.” Next to Newport there are at least ten things written in tiny script, and Seth squints and reads, “Welcome to the O.C., bitch,” and “Ew!” and “Seth, don’t say pee” and “Summer Breeze or Gimmie Sex?” Seth laughs and says, “Thank you, Ryan.”

“You haven’t seen the best part,” Ryan says, then moves the map down in Seth’s hands so that he can see that way south in the Pacific there’s written in tiny letters “future destination of Ryan & Seth.”

And there’s an arrow pointing to Tahiti.

Seth inhales sharply, and he really wants to cry now, because he doesn’t know what else to do, and he hasn’t the slightest idea of how to express just how much he loves Ryan in this moment.

Ryan solves the problem by pressing his lips to Seth’s gently, then wrapping his arms around him so that they’re hugging lying down. Seth feels his breath becoming more even and he thinks he wants to stay like this, to feel like this, forever.

He realizes maybe that’s not so crazy or impossible anymore, and then he is crying, and Ryan is holding him more tightly and whispering things in his ear about how it’s going to be okay, and Seth knows he’s right, because Ryan is always right, except when he isn’t.

Everything is beautiful, and it’s the same, and different, and wonderfully exciting, and even though Seth is usually afraid of feeling things he’s never felt before, he doesn’t feel that scared now.

Because it’s perfect.

Like this.


End file.
